


Like a Coming of Age

by oppressa



Category: Dark Tower - Stephen King
Genre: Book: The Drawing of the Three, F/M, Missing Scene, Porn Battle, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-11
Updated: 2014-02-11
Packaged: 2018-01-12 00:25:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1179717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oppressa/pseuds/oppressa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's been distant for the past three nights.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like a Coming of Age

**Author's Note:**

> Current Porn Battle entry, for the prompts 'outdoors', 'dust', 'gun oil', 'ka'.

“Hey handsome.”  
  
Eddie scoffs at that, sidestepping slightly and rubbing at the dark ring of bruising that hasn't yet faded from his neck. Though she's just trying to cheer him up, he knows he looks like shit. She's sure they both do, but Susannah's done with mirrors for what's possibly the rest of her life.  
  
“Very well then, Mr Dean.” She places her hands on her wheels to turn back. “I see we're in no mood for company this evening.”  
  
He hasn't been the past three nights, since reaching the end of the beach. They've done their best to make Roland comfortable together and behaved uncomfortably around each other, shooting two of the lobstrosities in order to make a meal. Eddie takes a special pleasure in obliterating the things, helps her spit them on the fire then sets off to be by himself.  
  
This time he rests a pale hand on top of hers before she can move away and slumps down in the dust beside her.  
  
He starts to explain himself, “No, I'm sorry. I'm just getting used to you, like this. You're like this crazy mix-” and stops, swallowing.  
  
She thinks he's remembering when she was Detta, dragging him down the sand towards a slow, inexorable death.  
  
“Oh Eddie. It's okay. I'm only myself.”  
  
“Yeah.” He sighs, “Yeah, but who's that, Susannah?”  
  
“Not the woman who tried to kill you.” She replies, “And not the one you made love to, either.”  
  
His weary green eyes flick away, and there's a long, not altogether awkward silence. He is still holding her hand tightly in fingers that are slick not with sweat but with oil and god, she sure loves to watch him fire that gun.  
  
“Do you still want to?” He clears his throat, “fuck, I mean, make love. To me. Jesus.”  
  
Susannah smiles. Soon after saving his ass from the horrific predicament she'd put him in, she was faced with that same certainty Odetta had, that he was hers and she was his.  
  
“Yes, I still want to, sugar. You're my guy. Besides, who else is there to screw around here?”  
  
He opens his mouth, forming a gesture towards the rocks where they left Roland, but she shakes her head, takes a hold of his shirt collar.  
  
“You.” She says, “There's just you, sug, got that?”  
  
Eddie moves forward onto his shins to kiss her. “Promise me she's gone.” He whispers, in between their mouths meeting. “The psycho-bitch, you're sure...”  
  
“Don't you know?” She asks him, softly. “Detta's scared of love.”  
  
Her arms slide around his shoulders as oil greased fingers steal up her thigh, push her threadbare underwear aside and slip into her folds so easily. His thumb touches her clit and what's left of her legs press together to make him give her more, rocking against the chair.  
  
Eventually the frame goes over and he's got her, by her waist, lays her down with his knees astride the swell of her hips. He loves the curves of her breasts with his tongue, bringing his lips and nose up to her jaw as she undoes his dust-covered pants and strokes his cock, smearing pre-come all over it before she leads him in.  
  
She's urging him to be rougher than their first night, and somewhat to her surprise, the slender ex-junkie can do that, planting his hands on either side of her and fucking like he hasn't had the strength for this sort of performance in a long time. Hers circle his lower back and hold him as he's maybe never been held by anyone except Henry since the dope meant everything to him, nothing or no one could compete with his addiction. She moves her index finger down to brush between his bare ass cheeks, expecting him to tell her it's not funny, but he stiffens and when she does it again, groans with no constraint and buries his face in her curls. Such trust.  
  
Out of nowhere the wind picks up, lifting the fine grains from underneath them, and Susannah clutches onto the bundle of their clothes to prevent them flying away.  
  
“Eddie,” She says, “baby, do you feel that?”  
  
The squall is roaring through her ears and he should really be carrying her back now because “Christ, Eddie, the _fire_.”  
  
She doesn't think he can hear her any more but he's saying her new name, her true name, over and over as the dust blows up around them.  
  
Somewhere inside her, Odetta moans _I will show you fear_ , and Detta crows, _Yes, oh_ yes.  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Title from Foster the People.


End file.
